


hold my hands

by orphan_account



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Isolation, M/M, Magical Realism, Non-Linear Narrative, gratuitous use of wind metaphors, halloween was a month ago but that isn't going to stop me, it's a dreamy spooky sort of thing, the thinkys were Huge when i wrote this, tyunning: mystery(tm) version, written in first person!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is Kai, by the way. You can call me that, if you’re even listening. Calling you, it’s like calling a book character or something. I know that you’re real, you’re there — I mean, probably. You’re close, but you’re so far away, you know? It’s like I’m screaming off of a cliff. Just still air, and — silence.(Or: A story told through voicemails, about a house and the wind and a soul.)
Relationships: Choi Soobin & Huening Kai, Huening Kai/Kang Taehyun
Comments: 22
Kudos: 31





	hold my hands

**Author's Note:**

> \- this is heavily inspired by the first couple episodes of the [mabel podcast](https://mabelpodcast.com/), which i highly recommend  
> \- a million thank yous to [juliet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinitarias/pseuds/trinitarias) and [mari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vespertyne/pseuds/vespertyne) for their help!!  
> \- the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0sr2wvSaS5K2QSkZnPkj6X) for [muffled crash]

[INTRO:]

SOOBIN: Hi, you’ve reached Choi Soobin. I’m not here to take your call right now, so please leave a message after the beep. Thanks!

[BEEP]

KAI: The boiler wasn’t even on, the boiler was never on — 

[BEEP]

Hi Soobin-ssi. My name is Huening Kai, with Starlight Home Care? For the past six months I’ve been taking care of your estate. I know this is a little bit strange, I mean, I know you own the place and everything — and I’m really not supposed to go snooping around the records — but I wanted to talk to you. Your house is fine! It’s not that kind of call, ah. This isn’t what I meant to say, but oh well. I’d just — I’d appreciate it if you could give me a call back on this number. I’m free any day before 7 a.m. or after 6 p.m. Thanks. Thank you very much! Okay, bye. Thanks.

[BEEP]

Hi, uh, this is Huening Kai! I called a couple days ago, and I haven’t — I haven’t heard anything back, so I just thought I’d try again, in case you didn’t get my last message. I thought that maybe my phone number might have been on private or my voice mailbox might have been full or maybe even that the reception was bad? It’s spotty sometimes out here in the woods, especially with the — never mind, I’m getting distracted. I checked it, and it’s all working now! So, if you could call me back some time, I’m available whenever, really. This is Huening Kai, I said that, right? Anyways, it’s — yeah. It’s not a matter of life-or-death or anything, but I really want to talk to you. Thanks, uh, thank you! Thanks, bye.

[BEEP]

[muffled] What was that? No, don’t worry. It’s fine, I’ll just — oh, shit.

[BEEP]

[pause, coughing] This is Huening Kai. Again. I don’t know if you...if you got my last two messages? Or I hope, there’s a reason you haven’t responded. Like maybe you changed your number, or you’re on a trip to America or something. Like, god I hope you’re not dead. I hope I’m not calling a dead person. You’re definitely not, I’m just being paranoid. Shit, I mean, I’ve been living in your house for the past six months, and you don’t seem like the kind of person that would ignore someone on purpose. I mean, Soobin-ssi, you seem nice — not...you know? Not that I’m going through your stuff or anything, I just...I mean I live here and — never mind. If you could even send me an email? It’s [REDACTED], or send me a text message or even a letter, I’d be really really grateful. I really hope this is Choi Soobin’s number. I promise I’ll stop calling, okay? Okay. Cool, that’s it. Okay. Bye.

[BEEP]

It’s me again. I mean, it’s Kai. Just. Trying to reach you. Whatever. Forget it.

[BEEP]

Okay, so here’s the thing. Something weird is going on. I know, I know, I live alone out here in the middle of nowhere in this ginormous house with no human contact. So if I start to go a little crazy, it’s understandable, right? Except, I really don’t think this is just me. Your house, it — it’s _listening_ to me. I know I sound delusional, but just hear me out, okay? This _can’t_ be normal. It just can’t be. I just — all day, all I hear is my own voice. And when I call to leave you a message, I hear yours, but that’s it. Just me, alone. Out here in the woods. Yesterday when I was talking out loud, trying to find something in the kitchen cupboards — don’t take this the wrong way, everyone talks to themselves! Okay but, I said ‘Where are the chopsticks?’ and like magic, one of the drawers opened! By itself! And you might think that it’s a coincidence or something, but then, today when I was in the library looking for a book, I said ‘I wonder where [REDACTED] is?’ and then! Like a spell or something! The book just fell off of the shelf! 

You probably think — think I’m going mad, cooped up in your estate. And that might be true. But, someone keeps _helping_ me when I ask for it. Like invisible hands — 

[BEEP]

Did you grow up in this house, Soobin-ssi? Do you know how big it is? The last house I took care of had three whole floors, and this estate is still bigger. Between 5 and 6 in the evening, the house settles, and you can hear it creaking all across the mountain, like someone stretching before they turn in for the night. Once, I was out weeding the garden when it happened. It scared me out of my mind, the building just started...squealing. I don’t think there’s another word for it. In the dusk, it almost felt like — this is Kai, by the way. You can call me that, if you’re even listening. This is kind of strange, isn’t it? I know a lot about you, because I see your stuff every day. Like a narrative that your home tells. And so calling you, it’s like calling — a book character or something. Like I have Albus Dumbledore listening. It’s weird, because I hear your voice in the inbox intro, so I know what you sound like. I know that you’re real, you’re there — I mean, probably. You’re close, but you’re so far away, you know? It’s like I’m screaming off of a cliff. Just still air, and — silence.

Your home — I mean, when I arrived it was like someone had just popped out for a chat with a neighbor — not that there’s anyone around to chat. What I mean is, all of your stuff was just _here_. Toothbrush wet by the sink, tin of loose tea open on the counter. Even the kettle was still boiling. There are all these pieces of you everywhere, and I sort of feel like I know you. Your clothes on the floor and your puzzles in the basement and the books you kept on your nightstand. It’s been six months, but it still feels like the whole house is waiting for you. Holding its breath until you come back. I keep cleaning around your packages in the foyer but I — I wonder about you.

The house is beautiful. It feels like it was built a hundred years ago. A little bit dreamy, a little bit romantic. Everything is fraying around the edges, you know? The rope swing in the backyard snapped yesterday. I can see all of your pictures on the walls, from when you were a kid, and the house is the same. It’s just cracked a little. It’s a bit darker. Spookier, maybe.

The whole house is spooky.

That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you. Not because I’m scared of the house or because it’s spooky or whatever. But because — because sometimes it feels like it — [muffled sound of breaking glass] — what _is_ that?

[BEEP]

I just want to know about the letters. That’s _all_.

[BEEP]

Hi, it’s — 

I’m sorry if I’m being pushy or something, leaving you so many messages. It’s my job, to look after your estate. I’m being paid to do it. And I like this job, I do! I chose it — but it’s a strange way to live. I never know if you’ll come back, if you’re even _alive_ or not. I’m living here, breathing here, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to be at home. It’s like I’m preparing a body for burial.

That’s morbid, isn’t it. Sorry. I mean, it’s not even _my_ place, but I know almost everything about it. I’ll have to leave though, if you ever come back, or decide that you’re annoyed with me calling. I can’t fall in love with a corpse, because it’ll be six feet under come morning. Does that make any sense? Sorry. 

I’m not complaining, it’s not because I’m unhappy or something. My whole life I’ve been told that I’m bright. Your house is wonderful, it just — it tells stories. It has secrets.

[pause]

Sorry, I thought I heard something.

Um, so here’s what I wanted to tell you. Last week, Wednesday or Thursday I think, I was trying to find decorations for Chuseok, in the attic. I wanted to sort through them, maybe hang up some lights. You probably remember the attic, not many houses have one these days. Not many people live in an _estate_ these days. But, anyways, it’s huge. Like a labyrinth with all these walls. I think there’s even a turret, but I haven’t been that far back yet. It’s like a brain, or a bowl of noodles. Looped on itself, dark and buzzing. The boiler rumbles, like a cat that purrs endlessly. You can feel it everywhere, even out in the garden. It’s like being inside something alive. Like being inside a heart.

Well, I found the box, I dusted it off, I brought it downstairs. There was this awful cramped handwriting on the side, ‘Chuseok 1978’. When I tried to open it though, it was like there was someone _pushing_ it closed. Not like it was stuck, or taped shut, but a literal force from the outside. But, I mean, what would you do? I live alone, in the woods. Nothing much scares me anymore. I got a knife, and I cut across the top. 

Inside — 

Inside there were letters, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. They were packed in like sardines, in neat little rows. All of them were tied with string, and sealed with wax. Blood red, not like lipstick, but like raw meat. Glistening, like they’d just dried. All of them, every single one, was marked _Returned To Sender_. Each one addressed to Kang Taehyun, at this house, at this address. Not a single one opened.

If you could just call me back. Just let me know, in any way that you’re hearing this. Not even a conversation, but something — anything, so that I know that I’m not just talking into the void. I just want — 

[BEEP]

[CONTINUED BEEPING]

AUTOMATED FEMALE VOICE: The voicemail inbox for [Choi Soobin] is full. Please call again, or notify the recipient to clear their messages.

[DIAL TONE]

[BEEP]

SOOBIN: Hi, you’ve reached Choi Soobin. I’m not here to take your call right now, so please leave a message after the beep. Thanks!

[BEEP]

[faint sound of windchimes, humming]

[BEEP]

KAI: Hi Soobin hyung.

Can I call you hyung? I feel like we’re on a hyung-dongsaeng basis at this point. You know some of my secrets, I know some of yours. But more than that: more than your childhood photos framed on the walls, more than the letters in the attic and what happened after, I know something else important. I know a truth: I know you’re listening. I know because yesterday this inbox was full, and today it isn’t. You can’t clear an inbox if you’re dead, or somewhere out of cell service. You just can’t. So yeah, you’re there, and I’m here, and maybe you’re only deleting these messages to have an empty inbox again. But you hear me. You can hear me, so I’m real, and this is happening. At least, I think so.

[BEEP]

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/miirrababy) [cc](https://curiouscat.me/mirababy)


End file.
